


Blind Rage

by impish_nature



Series: Blind Faith [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, blind faith au, protective ford, warnings for some panic attacks and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6813982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Blind Faith AU one shot! Ford finds out about a fear Stan has in the worst possible way. Ford does not take kindly to someone hurting his brother. (Warnings: Panic attacks, blood and violence.) Set before Stan’s sight starts to return so the other fic doesn’t have to be read first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Rage

**Author's Note:**

> AN: You are never getting away from pun titles for this au. This is based on another headcanon I wrote about in awhile back and then a very long chat with @yourlocalviking - the spiral of creativeness is ever increasing.

“Sixer, will you stop arguing with me? We can’t keep doing this.”

“No. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“ _Stanford_.”

Ford winced at the irate and worried growl rumbling out of his brother’s throat as they trudged further into the latest dimension they’d found themselves in. It was quiet here, peaceful even. The shifting wind through the trees and the chirping of small birds the only semblance of life they had so far come across.

It was this tranquil lull which had made it glaringly obvious to his blind brother when he had stumbled over something and landed head first to the mushy ground with a loud huff as the air escaped his lungs.

Stan had not been quiet in voicing his opinion, but then again he never had been. It was apparent to both of them that this was an oddity. Ford had become their eyes, an unintentional and protective streak rearing its head that he knew sometimes had Stan biting his tongue to stop himself from snapping back at. That he was _perfectly capable of navigating a few odd tree roots thank you very much_. But in the same manner Stan had taken to being their ears without intent, the sensory deprivation of his eyesight spurring his other senses to accommodate the sudden lack of vision. It had become as natural as breathing to listen to Stan when he said something was wrong even if he himself didn’t know what it was that had suddenly put him on edge.

And in that vein, Ford missing a step and tumbling had become just as rare as Stan not noticing the signs that a predator was nearby by the sudden lack of bird song.

They both knew what had caused this lapse in momentum, no matter how much he would try and deny it if an argument spewed forth because of it. It was the first time it had actually hindered him physically no matter how much Stan would say otherwise and he would make damn sure it didn’t happen again.

Not that he was going to change anything, he was just going to work harder to make sure it didn’t show through physically and worry Stan unnecessarily.

After all, sleep had become a precious commodity.

It wasn’t even that they weren’t safe. They were in the middle of the woods, they knew how to set up traps and tricks to keep animals at bay now that they’d been in this particular dimension long enough. Knew that there was no one near for miles around either, and if they did come across any on their travels none had yet to wish them harm. But still, Ford refused to let Stan keep watch for long at night. _He_ had to look after them both. Had to make sure nothing else happened to his twin. He’d already lost him his sight, he couldn’t be responsible for more. He couldn’t put the pressure on him to keep them safe when he couldn’t see danger coming, no matter how much he argued that his hearing would more than compensate. He couldn’t let him when he would only blame himself if something snuck up on them.

_It’s all your fault. Your fault you’re in this predicament to begin with. Don’t burden him with more._

Not that he had said any of this to his brother, he couldn’t voice any of these opinions or treacherous thoughts out loud. He knew the best and most probably _only_ response he was likely to get was a swift punch to the face for daring to even think these things. Even worse, he’d probably get a silent and fuming brother for at least a week afterwards who he’d have to try and coax into talking to him and keeping him company. It was always worse when Stan got so angry he couldn’t speak. At least when he lashed out Ford knew exactly what was on his mind.  

And so they’d entered a stalemate, a compromise that neither of them were content with. Ford would keep watch of a night, Stan would wake early as the sun rose and they’d head off for a while, gaining ground for as long as possible. When the heat got unbearable around midday Stan would force them to stop and make sure Ford got as much sleep as possible while he kept an ear to the ground from the shade. Ford would never admit that this was actually far better for him in a way. That sleeping with the daylight bright and warm through the trees was actually easier than trying to sleep at night when his skin crawled and his throat locked up. When the darkness around their small camp fire seemed filled with unseen eyes and whispered promises of nightmares clawing at his mind.

But he never let himself sleep long. They had to keep moving, he couldn’t leave Stan alone for long. And yet Stan grew more irate by the day at him for these stunts, for forcing himself not to rest because he had to keep an eye out. _Can’t sleep, can’t rest, must keep watch._ _For both of us_.

This seemed to be the nail in the coffin though as he tried to stand up and the world tilted alarmingly with the motion.

He rubbed a hand down his face, scrubbing at his eyes to stop the world’s nauseating shifting and grimaced at the mud that came away with it. If his brother could see him, he wondered if he’d be chuckling at the state he was in. He glanced over to check, wincing slightly at the serious and exasperated expression on Stan’s face, directed straight at him, his stick tapping at the floor in a nervous movement.

Nope, he could pretty much say with absolute certainty that the same look would mar his face, vision unimpaired or otherwise.

“Ford, you _need_ to sleep.”

The pleading tone to his voice set Ford’s teeth on edge.

“ _I’m fine, Stan_.”

“You are not _fine_ , Stanford Filbrick Pines. The last time you were this sleep deprived you were holding a crossbow to my head. The last time you got to this state, you stopped thinking straight and those demons got inside your head and-”

Stan really never had been one to hide his opinion from the world.

Ford flinched back as Stan exploded, though it appeared he had startled himself as much as Ford by the outburst.

Stan’s mouth closed again with a sharp snap as he heard his brother stumble away from him. His face flooded with guilt as he shrank back away himself, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his back hit a tree behind him.

“Shit. Ford I didn’t- I didn’t mean to bring that up. I didn’t mean that. I’m just- you’re hurting yourself Sixer! And I can’t sit here and watch you doing this to yourself.”

 _All over again._ Ford’s mind supplied, his own thoughts and memories swirling up to greet him. The fear of the mindscape, the utter betrayal of Bill that made it hard to trust anyone, anything, even himself. The darkness that had dragged him down and left him unable to sleep because if he did Bill might take over and he couldn’t have that. He had to keep going until the portal was taken care of, until all his journals were hidden away.

_He’s afraid of you._

Electric fizzled down his spine, cold and sharp, at the notion. That his sleep deprivation was putting Stan on edge for other more chilling possibilities that he hadn’t been voicing along with his loud remarks of concern for his well-being.

The insidious thought turned his stomach as he finally took on board what Stan had accidentally let slip. That he could be putting him at danger. That instead of fearing what could happen if he didn’t keep them safe, it was _himself_ he should be afraid of if he descended too far down this sleepless path.

But he had to keep watch.

He wouldn’t hurt Stan again.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

“Let’s keep moving.”

“Y-yeah, OK.”

 

* * *

 

It was late when they finally stopped. Far later than usual. Stan hadn’t argued again, in fact he had gone distressingly quiet, too shamefaced to respond whenever Ford light-heartedly tried to start up a conversation.

Ford could feel exhaustion prickling behind his eyelids, his mind growing sluggish, like his thoughts were congealing before he’d even had a chance to really think them through. He honestly wasn’t sure if it was the usual drone of walking that was finally sinking into his bones or if it was this sudden need to get his brother talking to him that wasn’t being fulfilled causing this new wave of fatigue.

Not that his brother was faring much better from what he could see. They had covered some difficult terrain over the day and Stan, whilst adamantly not talking to him, had also tuned him out at points and stubbornly tried to navigate it all himself.

If it was any other day Ford would have been exasperated by it but would have encouraged him along at every obstacle nonetheless, taking it as a sign that Stan needed some semblance of independence.

As it was he’d had to bite his tongue more than once to stop himself from snapping at his brother to just _listen to him for crying out loud_.

But now it had gotten too dark to continue and they were both dead on their feet from the long hike and awkward atmosphere. Ford could feel it brewing again, the tension bubbling up between them as they set up camp. He could feel his brother’s head turning towards him every so often, hear the half started words that turned to nothing.

If it had been earlier in the day he would have leapt at the chance for conversation. But he was too tired for an argument now, knew too well that Stan would not be interested in small talk that night.

He sat himself down in a good spot to keep watch, eyes straining against the fire next to him and against the insistent tug of sleep trying to drag his eyelids down. He felt eyes on him again and turned to glance at Stan out of his peripherals, watched his face grow determined and his mouth open defiantly.

Ford wondered briefly in a sleepy haze if Stan knew his face was so easy for him to read.

“Good night, Stan.”

There was a finality to Ford’s tone as he ended the conversation before it could begin. He tried not to let the hurt and disappointed look on his twin’s face get to him. Stan opened and closed his mouth a few more times, obviously warring with himself before with a sigh he turned his back on Ford and laid down.

“…Night, Ford.”

 

* * *

 

It was less than an hour later when everything went to hell.

He had been drifting, he knew he had and he couldn’t stop it no matter how much he struggled to drag himself into wakefulness. The wind whistling in the trees had acted like a lullaby, his eyes struggling against the pull as his mind slipped in and out of consciousness until he was in a half asleep daze that he couldn’t quite tug out of. He had found himself staring unseeing into the void of darkness beyond their small camp fire’s ring of light.

Which was why it came as a complete shock when he was jolted back to the world of the living but not through his own volition.

“Don’t move.”

It was not his own mind that forced himself out of this haze of sleep.

A hissing, growl of a voice was the only warning he received before cold metal slipped down his throat in a soft threat of what was to come.

Ford didn’t let himself think before he acted, his body and mind too far down the rabbit hole to think just how reckless a decision it was as he snapped his arm up between him and his attacker and forced the knife away from his neck. He didn’t even feel the small nick the blade gave him in the state he was in nor the trickle that slipped down his throat.

The man behind him grunted, obviously unused to someone so blatantly risking life and limb in such a precarious situation and stumbled backwards, caught off guard.

It wasn’t enough to keep him there for long though as Ford stood and the world span. Before he could get a word out to warn Stan he was tackled to the floor, the wind knocked out of him as he struggled for a weapon, cursing his body for forsaking him when he needed it most.

“Six-er?”

The voice was groggy, riddled with fatigue and perplexity but had Ford’s heart soaring even as he doubled his efforts to get the assailant off of him. Their fighting had been enough to wake his brother up, a small mercy as he no longer had to divide his attention between fighting and trying to rouse him. It also proved to be the distraction he needed as the man’s attention was diverted and he almost managed to flip their positions.

Almost.

“Stop squirming.” The man snarled at him, his teeth gritted as he pinning him down with a knee to the chest.

The air left Ford’s lungs in a gasp as he struggled harder. He felt a vicious grin sidle up his face in retaliation though as he saw Stan move out of his peripherals, obviously wide awake now upon hearing their assailant snap at him. He knew not to underestimate his brother’s abilities.

Sight or no sight, he was still a fighter.

And one hell of one at that.

Movement behind Stan caught Ford’s eye and his smirk dwindled as a toothy sneer flashed from above him.

“Stan, watch-!”

His words were too late as another attacker launched from the bushes behind Stan. Ford couldn’t stop the small noise of pride and worry that left him as Stan faced the assailant head on, catching him by surprise. They really shouldn’t have misjudged him. The two fell to the floor in a heap, neither one with the upper hand as they grappled, Stan’s stick between them to fend off any small weapon the other may have and as a way to gain leverage in the momentum they had between them.

Breath on Ford’s cheek brought him back to his own predicament, his hand slamming upwards in a snapping motion that had the other reeling back away from him. Hand to hand combat was not his forte, he was much better suited at mid or even long range attacks but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve as he stumbled back to his feet, his body still cursing him for his sleep-depravation.

The man groaned from the ground, clutching at his now heavily bleeding nose. If Ford wasn’t pumped full of adrenaline and twitchy with anxiety, he might have felt pity for the injury but as it was, he was just happy it was giving him a few moments of reprieve as he got his bearings back. Found his footing again and felt maybe they were finally gaining the upper hand.

A small whimper from behind him sent a shiver down his spine as he lost the small semblance of mental footing he’d been building up.

He turned slowly, his head full of cotton wall and half thought out questions. The sound didn’t make sense. He had heard it. He knew what it was. And yet processing it seemed to be another matter entirely.

Hands gripped his arms, slippery slick with blood as they grasped his coat tight but he felt disconnected from it all. A litany of curses close to his ear sounded like white noise through the fog that had descended through his mind and caused his vision to tunnel.

There was Stan, where he had last seen him, but he wasn’t struggling with everything he had, he wasn’t even putting up a fight. _Why isn’t he fighting?...Why aren’t I?_ Ford felt his heart thud, reality popping his ears back into the world. Heavy panting breaths and small noises of fear interlinked and swirling around came back to him, loud and clear as day in the quiet scene.

Stan wasn’t fighting.

Stan was _terrified_.

Ford blinked, his heart pumping faster as the world seemed to catch up to his thoughts. He wasn’t watching everything in slow motion anymore. Stan’s eyes were wide, straining as if he’d forgotten the truth behind the redundant motion. His mouth opened and closed as if he couldn’t get anything passed his tongue, a notion that Ford found particularly distressing considering Stan _always_ knew what to say, _always_ kept his mouth running even when it got him in trouble. His hands tightened into fists, clutching at his coat hard enough he was sure he’d tear it as the world fell around his ears. But none of it mattered. What mattered was figuring out what had spooked his brother so much and rectifying the situation.

He got his answer not a moment later as Stan’s assailant shifted and Stan shuddered, his whole body pushing away to the side in a flighty jolt. His eyes closed tight, his head turning with his body away from the danger.

“ _Please._ ”

Ford was sure his heart had stopped. He’d never heard his brother beg before, not like that anyway. His chest felt hollowed out, ripped at the seams as his eyes locked on to the cause of all this. As his mind came to grips with exactly what was going on and what had led to this moment.

“Heh, tough guy like you scared of a bit of fire, now are we?”

The man above Stan pulled a branch out of the still dying fire close to Stan’s head, his eyes full of sick twisted curiosity as they looked down at the now cowering prey beneath them.

Ford saw red as the man brought the small ember back to life with a few blows and a small smile of scrutiny, his intentions clear.

Rage pounded through him like a symphony, blood rushing through his ears and losing him to the sudden drive that swept through him like nothing else had.

 _Don’t you dare touch him_.

A vicious roar tore out of him as he snapped his body backwards, his head colliding with the man’s already injured face. A victorious smirk full of teeth crossed his face at the howl he received but he didn’t wait to see if he’d met his mark. Quick as a flash he darted forward, bending to grab a small knife he kept beside him at all times in one fluid motion and slammed straight into the man above Stan with all the force he could muster.

He slipped between them when the man cursed and retreated, clutching tight at his now profusely bleeding arm. Ford crouched low and protective over his brother’s prone form, knife raised to his eye level as he waited for their next move. Stan, without his captor to hold him there, curled towards Ford and away from the fire, a tremor still running through him that increased the thunderous noise that was escaping Ford’s throat.

He couldn’t seem to do much more, couldn’t spit the malicious words he wanted to at the now speechless and injured men staring back at him in horror. All that came out was this persistent dark noise that promised death and destruction if they took a step closer.

Another small sad noise behind him had him narrowing his eyes as he felt Stan shift into an even tighter ball beside him.

Maybe they didn’t need to take a step closer to deserve the extent of his wrath.

Ford started forward. Eyes locked on the closest before he paused as the pair took one look at each other and scarpered. He wanted to give chase, one voice in his brain shouting to give chase as the rest screamed to stay close to Stan.

“This isn’t worth it!”

“Keep your stuff, you psycho!”

 _You were willing to kill us and you call me a psycho?_ Ford couldn’t help the hysterical thought, nor the accompanying noise of disbelief that left him at their words as they vanished into the darkness.

He waited for another second to make sure they had gone before Stan made another discontented noise and his instincts kicked in to turn and help him. He pulled him further from the fire, checked him over for wounds- any burns that would have him following the pair into the darkness regardless of his other priorities- but found to his relief that his brother seemed unharmed. Physically at least. Stan struggled half-heartedly against him as they went, but the shake that was running through him seemed too much for him to combat. As soon as he seemed to realise he was being pulled away from the fire he caught on, latching onto Ford’s arms for dear life and pushing his legs against the ground in an effort to help.

Ford couldn’t bear the still wide eyed fear that his brother was displaying, the deep heavy pants that were close to hyperventilating. He did the only thing that seemed logical at the time, kicking up sand and dirt over their small fire until the night swallowed him up.

He could live with that, live with seeing what his brother saw even if the darkness brought the whispers with it.

As long as Stan was safe beside him.

“S-Sixer?”

Ford nodded quickly, rolling his eyes at himself as he realised the futility in the motion and went to speak instead. He grit his teeth, a new wave of annoyance bubbling up as his throat remained closed and he couldn’t reassure Stan that everything was alright.

_It’s not alright. You did this. He wouldn’t be scared of fire if you hadn’t-_

“No-not, up for talking, nerd?”

Ford snapped out of the spiralling thoughts as Stan brought a hesitant hand up, pushing forward until he found Ford’s arm and brought it to rest over his hand, giving it a small squeeze. The red to his vision started to lift as Stan counted his fingers, obviously checking, just to be safe. The count down helped him too, helped to ground them both and remind them that it was all fine, they were safe and sound.

It was just them, no one else. He’d protected his brother, everything was OK.

Ford rested his head against Stan’s shoulder, taking a long deep breath that tethered him further to reality. And yet he could feel the power deserting him, the rush of anger and energy fizzling away to leave him even emptier and drowsier than before.

“Did you fall asleep, Ford?”

Ford shook his head against him before pausing at the question. Did he mean now? Or earlier? Ford frowned. He wasn’t even sure he had fallen asleep before all this, or just been lulled into a half sleep.

His body locked up as guilt pulsed through his core. He’d not kept watch. He’d fallen asleep and he’d caused this whole mess. He had to be better at this. Had to stay awake. He couldn’t rest. _If I do, Stan could get hurt_ -

“You know. Back when I was living out of my car. I tried to stay up all hours, always kept one eye open, you know?” Stan broke through Ford’s slowly panicking thoughts. He paused for a moment, making sure his brother was listening until his own thoughts appeared to trail away at the memory. Another shudder went through him. Ford gripped his hand tighter at the aftershock, a small questioning noise escaping him. Stan continued as if there hadn’t been a blip. “It was the worst mistake I ever made. You’re at your most vulnerable when you’re too tired to move but too afraid to sleep. Nothing wakes you up in those moments once you finally cave. You aren’t as prepared, you aren’t as attentive.” He tilted his head, leaning it on Ford’s with a sigh.

“Ford, if you keep doing this, who knows what could happen?”

Ford blinked through the tiredness, his cognitive abilities not up to par as he processed Stan’s words before it hit him all at once that Stan was right. He had no idea what he was doing. His arms and legs felt like jelly and his mind was dripping out his ears as he tried to come up with some kind of argument as to why _he_ had to stay up and defend them.

None of the arguments seemed valid against the insistent pull of sleep.

“Which is why you need to get some sleep.” Stan tried to pull away, going to grab Ford’s sleeping roll now that the temperature was dropping but Ford wouldn’t let go, his hands tight in Stan’s shirt as he shook his head. Stan sighed. “Ford, you need to rest.”

“I-I…know.”

Stan blinked, sitting back down as Ford managed to break passed the wall with great difficulty. “So?”

“ _Can’t_ …”

Stan felt the hand loosen and tighten in his shirt repeatedly as Ford’s mind warred with his throat. He thought he caught the drift of it all anyway. He knew that Ford felt responsible for a lot of things. Hell it was obvious in this stupid sleep stunt that he felt the need to protect Stan. It would be reasonable to assume after he’d just embarrassed himself completely and been rescued by his twin that said twin felt the need to keep him within arm’s reach after that. He got himself comfortable, grabbed his own blanket to drape over them both and settled back down, casting his eyes out into his own perpetual darkness and wondering slightly what Ford was seeing next to him. “That better?”

“But-them. Watch.”

“I’ll keep watch. Don’t you worry.”

“B-but…”

Stan nudged him with his shoulder, cutting off his words into a reproachful sound that had him smiling ever so slightly. “Hey, you protected me now it’s time for me to protect you from yourself. Go to sleep, Sixer. Things will make more sense in the morning. Besides if it wasn’t for- _that_ …I would have kicked their asses and yours for not sleeping. And that would be because I’ve actually slept over the last few days unlike someone.”

“Yeah…”

“Right then. If you understand that you can understand that I’m keeping watch tonight. Now get the hell to sleep before I make you sleep.”

“Funny.”

Ford blinked a few more times, his eyelids agreeing entirely with Stan’s words as the rest of his mind still fought valiantly. But the darkness claimed him as Stan started to hum a soft tune, rocking slightly with it until Ford couldn’t fight it anymore.

Stan held his breath for a moment as Ford’s breathing evened out and he slumped further against him. He sat himself up, his stick tight in the hand that Ford had not noticed.

The snaking tendrils of fire on his face still burned a phantom path, his shoulder scorched with a bright intensity. He gave another full body shudder, his body flitting between ice cold and searing hot in a way that made him sweat and kick out to make sure the fire really was out as Ford’s actions and the sudden loss of heat had made it out to be.

Ford whined next to him at the jostling and he froze, waiting for him to shift and settle again before letting out his breath.

A breath of wind brushed across him, relaxing his muscles slightly at its cooling, soothing balm as it danced across him. He just hoped the temperature dropped enough as the night went on for him to stop feeling flames brushing against his skin whenever the wind died down.

He listened intently, the soft hooting of a bird and the wind rustling through the trees the only signs of life around them now that the crackling fire had gone. But every twig snapping, every bush rustling had him locking up on high alert, his stick ready and waiting to be used.

He could tell it was going to be a long night.

But if Ford finally got some rest it would all be worth it when dawn broke.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Ending ran away with me a bit but I like to think that Ford felt safe enough to sleep with Stan that close to him. And he’s running on zero sleep so sue him for passing out after all that, man needs some rest -o- 
> 
> Also I will update my masterpost soon. Internet has been awful and I’m fairly ill so I’m a bit @.@ right about now.


End file.
